


back to you my heart went skipping

by SuburbanSun



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2020-10-10 08:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20525033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: A collection of Roswell New Mexico minifics I've written for prompts on Tumblr.Latest additions: A flight attendant spies Malex coming out of an airplane bathroomandMalex + Michael only lets Alex touch his hair





	1. malex + fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is a place to compile any and all Roswell New Mexico minifics I post on Tumblr-- probably mostly Malex, but more characters/pairings/tags will be added as needed! I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there, for reference.
> 
> Title of collection taken from ["Good Man" by Josh Ritter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWlLbRC3TlA), which has charmingly cowboyish lyrics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [Chamblerstara](https://chamblerstara.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, who prompted "Malex + fire."

Michael let the truck idle in the cabin’s driveway for one minute, two minutes, three minutes after he pulled up. He wasn’t sure if he hoped Alex would be home or not. He shouldn’t even be there-- Valenti had planned to bring over the box of files originally, but he’d gotten called to his shift at the hospital early. _ Dick_.

But Michael was nothing if not stubborn, and the fact that while they were getting along pretty well, he and Alex hadn’t actually been _ alone _ together in close to three months wasn’t going to stop him from doing what he’d come to do. Not if there was something in those files that could help get Max back. 

He puffed out a harsh breath and cut the engine. 

There was no answer at the door, and somehow Michael didn’t think Alex would appreciate a telekinetic break-in. He’d turned to make for the truck, figuring at least he’d tried, when he heard a thud from around the back of the cabin. Then another. Then another. 

Michael set the cardboard box in one of the chairs by the door and tried to keep his footsteps light as he followed the sound. If somebody-- somebody besides him, that is-- was trying to break into Alex’s house, he was prepared to unleash the full arsenal of his powers on them.

When he rounded the corner of the cabin, though, he stopped short, his mouth suddenly gone dry. 

A dozen or so yards away stood Alex. Shirtless. Splitting logs into firewood. 

His back was to the cabin, and the movement of muscle as he rhythmically swung the axe kept Michael glued to the spot. After a few more pieces, Alex let the axe drop to the ground and reached up to wipe sweat from his forehead. Michael sucked in a breath, then tucked a thumb in a belt loop and took a step forward.

“That enough wood for you?” he couldn’t help but ask with a smirk. Alex spun around, and for a moment his expression was unguarded. For a moment, Michael thought he almost looked pleased to see him. When he spoke, though, his face didn’t betray much of anything at all.

“Cold front’s coming in this weekend. It never hurts to be prepared.” He frowned. “What are you doing here?” 

Michael shrugged one shoulder. “Valenti got tied up at the hospital, wanted me to bring over that stuff you needed.” 

“Ah,” was all Alex said in response, and Michael bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. He knew how to fight with Alex, and he knew how to spend time with Alex with no words needed, but he still hadn’t gotten the hang of how to talk to Alex. And he _ wanted _ to talk to Alex, to spend time with him again. He almost wanted to piss Alex off just to get him to say _ some_thing. He’d opened his mouth to do just that, when Alex turned his back again and carefully bent over, gathering logs up into his arms. Michael’s eyes tracked down the slope of his spine, down to the way his jeans hung slightly low on slim hips and clung to his ass, and he lost his train of thought entirely.

“Guerin?” Alex said once he’d straightened up after what felt like just a smidge longer than necessary. “Want to make yourself useful?” He nodded to the rest of the wood, then headed for the cabin. Belatedly, Michael nodded and gathered up the remaining logs.

“So, uh…” he began, following Alex up the porch steps. “Didn’t know you had a lumberjack side to you.”

Alex set his wood down just beside the front door and arranged it in a neat pile, and Michael started to follow suit. “I don’t know; sometimes it’s just nice to do things with my bare hands I guess,” he said with a shrug, and Michael immediately fumbled one of the logs off the stack. He floated it back before it could roll off the porch entirely, and when he looked back up, there was the slightest hint of a smirk on Alex’s face. 

He gestured at the box of files still sitting in a chair by the door. “Is this them?” 

Michael nodded, and Alex lifted it up with both hands, his biceps flexing as he did. Michael felt a little bit like his head was spinning. 

“Guerin?” Alex asked again, propping the box against his hip so he could reach back with one hand to get the door. 

“Hmm?” 

Alex breathed in and out, his gaze flitting over Michael’s face and his hand still resting on the knob. He bit his lip, then seemed to make a decision. “Come inside. You can help me go over these files.” 

Michael swallowed. 

“Maybe we can even make use of some of this firewood,” Alex continued, and while Michael had no idea if this was a good idea, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to resist. He’d never been able to. 

“Only if you put on a shirt,” he said at last, following Alex into the cabin. “Otherwise there’s no way I’m gonna be able to concentrate on the research.” 

Alex chuckled and shut the door behind them. “No promises.” 

It was going to be a long night.


	2. malex + i watch kids teach you how to skate because you’re a terrible skater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a Tumblr prompt: "i watch kids teach you how to skate because you’re a terrible skater"

For such a small town, the parking lot of the Roswell Square Mall in December still managed to be a shitshow. Alex huffed out a frustrated breath as another car beat him to a parking space for the third time. Normally, he’d do all his shopping online, but he’d been too distracted, and the holiday had snuck up on him. There wasn’t time to wait for shipping.

_ Normally_, he didn’t have many people to buy gifts for at all, he thought as he pulled into a spot in the very back corner of the parking lot. There was certainly no annual Manes family gift exchange to consider. But in early December, Liz had put her foot down. They were all too tense, working themselves too hard trying to find a way to bring Max back, and dammit, she was going to make sure they all got to experience at least a little holiday cheer in the form of a Secret Santa.

Alex had breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he’d pulled Isobel’s name out of the empty water pitcher at the Crashdown. Sure, he’d have to spend more than he’d like to satisfy her elegant tastes, but he’d dreaded choosing Michael’s name. What do you get for the alien who doesn’t want anything you have to offer? They’d managed to cobble together a friendship, but Alex wasn’t sure what he could come up with to give to Michael that didn’t feel at once too intimate and not intimate enough.

No, even difficult-to-please Isobel was definitely the safer choice.

Inside the mall, he weaved his way through crowds of frazzled moms and unaccompanied teens clutching their Orange Julius’ and Auntie Anne’s, ending up browsing housewares at Nordstrom. He finally settled on an abstract vase, figuring he could bring over flowers every now and then to fill it. Isobel’s house could use a touch of life these days.

He was on his way toward the mall entrance, Nordstrom bag in hand, when he spotted it. Spotted him, rather. 

Michael, right in the middle of the temporary ice rink set up next to the food court. Michael, with ice skates strapped to his feet. Michael, gesticulating wildly with both hands for balance before falling hilariously, beautifully, on his ass.

Alex couldn’t stop being drawn to him if he tried.

He approached the edge of the rink, setting down his bag and leaning both elbows on the plastic barrier that separated the ice from the mall’s tile floor, and he watched.

“Told you I’m no good at this,” Michael groused, slipping backward and forward a bit as he heaved himself to his feet. At first, Alex wasn’t sure who he was talking to, until a kid who couldn’t be older than 13 skated around Michael in a perfect arc.

“That’s ‘cause your balance sucks,” the kid said, earning a glare from Michael.

“Yeah, no shit.” He grimaced. “I mean, no duh.”

The kid rolled his eyes. “You can say shit; I’m not five.” He gestured at Michael. “Try again.” 

To Alex’s surprise, Michael did as he was told, shakily turning and skating a few feet in the other direction. The kid nodded encouragingly as Michael approached the ledge on the opposite side of the rink from where Alex stood. By the time Michael got there, grasping the plastic barrier for dear life, Alex could no longer hear the conversation between the two. Still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

“Weird, right?” came a voice to his left. He looked over in time to see Liz skating smoothly in his direction, coming to a stop with a little flourish as she reached him. 

Alex quirked an eyebrow. “You mean, the fact that you and Michael are here ice skating together, or the fact that he’s getting skating lessons from some random sarcastic teenager?”

Liz let out a laugh, and it was a balm to Alex’s heart. It had been a rare sound lately, and while her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, it was still a welcome sight. 

“He wouldn’t listen to me at all, but this snarky kid started teasing him and I think it hurt his pride. He had to let him show him a few moves.”

“And you two are… what, practicing your ice dancing routine for the next winter Olympics?” He frowned, unable to resist scanning the rink to see who else might be there with them. “Is, uh--”

Liz leaned on the barrier across from him, catching his eye. “Maria and Michael broke up,” she said softly, as if she was the one who was psychic. “It was for the best, for all parties involved. But now he can’t exactly head over to the WIld Pony after we finish up in the lab every night, and I’d rather him not drink himself sick alone in his trailer. Not when he’s been doing so much better lately. So I’ve been brainstorming some non-whiskey-or-acetone-related ways to help him blow off steam.” 

“Like ice skating,” Alex said, proud of how normal his voice sounded even as he processed so much new information. 

Liz nodded. “Last night Rosa got him to make Christmas ornaments with her. Little green alien heads wearing Santa hats and UFOs pulled by reindeer. Tonight, I thought we’d try ice skating.”

They both looked over in time to see Michael sprawled spectacularly across the ice, a scowl on his face. The kid giggled, but still held out a hand to help him up. 

“As you can see, it’s going about as well as could be expected,” Liz said. 

Across the ice, Michael had pulled himself to his feet with the kid’s help, and rubbed one hand idly over his hip as if it had broken his fall. Then he looked over and met Alex’s gaze. Alex could see him exhale sharply, then mutter something to the kid. The kid gave Alex an appraising glance, then shrugged, grasping Michael’s elbow with both hands and helping guide him across the rink. 

“Who’s your chauffeur, Mikey?” Liz asked with a laugh as they approached. Alex felt thrown off balance by the dichotomy of Michael’s jerky, inexpert skating and the way he still managed to look like every one of Alex’s dreams come to life, but he tried to muster a chuckle anyway. 

“This is…” Michael began, just a few feet away.

“Curtis,” the kid spoke up. Then, to Liz: “You should get your friend some skating lessons for Christmas.” 

She laughed again. “What do you charge?” 

Curtis cocked his head to the side. “You couldn’t afford me. See ya!” He darted off across the ice, leaving the three of them in a close huddle at the edge of the rink. 

“Alex,” Michael said, sounding a little out of breath. Alex presumed it was from the effort exerted trying to stay upright on skates. 

“Hey.” 

“I was just filling in Alex on you and Rosa’s arts and crafts nights,” Liz said. “Did she say popcorn garland or cut-out snowflakes was next?” 

“I think she said we’re going to make a candy Nativity scene,” he answered without looking away from Alex. “Gummi Bears as the wise men and a little jellybean Jesus.”

“Couldn’t you use your powers to balance?” Alex asked, keeping his voice low.

“Liz has got me on a tight leash these days.”

She rolled her eyes, then explained, “We’re experimenting with the strength of his powers, and as a control, I asked him to refrain from using them outside of the lab for a few days.” 

“And I’m gonna have the bruises on my ass to prove it.” 

The last thing Alex needed was to think about Michael’s ass, and he looked over his shoulder at the crowded mall before turning back to the two of them. “Well, I should probably--”

“Hot chocolate,” Michael blurted out. Alex raised his eyebrows, and Liz just looked back and forth between them. “It’s just-- Liz also has me on this no drinking thing--”

“Hey, _ you _said--”

He waved her away, still looking hopefully at Alex. “But they have a little cafe with hot chocolate over there, and I could really use one after falling all over the ice. It’s pretty cold out there.” 

Alex’s gaze flicked over to the cafe Michael mentioned, just a few little faux wrought-iron tables in a cluster on the other side of the rink. 

“You thirsty?” Michael asked, and Alex swallowed. “I just thought-- maybe we could, you know, talk.” 

“Um.” Alex clutched the Nordstrom bag tighter in his grip and licked his lips. Talking had never been their strong suit, but Alex had meant it when he said he wasn’t walking away again. Not when Michael was finally ready for a conversation. He inhaled, then nodded, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Actually, I’m parched.” 

“Good. Great. I’ll just, ah, return these skates--”

“Take them off here and give them to me,” Liz said, gesturing to his feet. “I mean it; you’re a hazard to everyone on the ice. You two go, enjoy your hot chocolate.” Her expression brooked no arguments. 

As they sat down across from each other minutes later, a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream in front of each of them, their knees brushed beneath the table, and neither one of them moved away. Alex took a steamy sip, and thought maybe the mall at Christmastime wasn’t so bad, after all.


	3. malex + avoiding family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day one of the Roswell Prompts Advent on tumblr-- prompt: "avoiding family." 
> 
> Takes place next Christmas—you know, if everything bad and sad and awkward is totally resolved within the next year, that is.

“Michael?”

He turns his head at the sound of the chiming bell on the Crashdown’s door, and relaxes when he sees it’s just Alex. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees where he’s seated on the curb, and listens to Alex’s familiar gait as he steps toward him, then sits down beside him.

“You do know the party’s _ inside_, right? It’s not a Christmas block party? Especially not since it’s...” Alex checks his phone. “30 degrees out here.”

Michael rolls his eyes but lets his legs fall open until one knee rests lightly against Alex’s. “Isn’t it about time Arturo got a food truck?”

“You gonna volunteer to be his mobile chef?” 

Michael just hums in response, and they sit in silence for a few moments. The warmth from where their legs are touching makes Michael feel solid and grounded in a way he hadn’t before he stepped outside for some air. 

“You want to talk about it?” Alex asks, and Michael shrugs.

“Got pretty used to spending the holidays alone, you know? And then last year, we were kinda preoccupied trying to get Max back from the dead.” He huffs out a breath, and watches it fog in front of his face. “This is all a little overwhelming."

Alex nods. “I have to admit, holidays are a little different now than they were when I was in Iraq. More eggnog, less sand.”

Michael snorts, then peers back over his shoulder into the Crashdown’s big glass windows, which are lined with festive fake snow. Inside, he can see Liz and Maria’s shoulders shaking with laughter as Max looks flummoxed, the butt of the joke. Behind the counter, Arturo squirts whipped cream from a can into mugs of hot cocoa, looking fondly over at Rosa when she swipes a fingerful from the top of the closest drink. Sitting side by side on a pair of stools, Isobel has pulled a Santa hat down over Valenti’s eyes, and doesn’t look at all sorry about it. Michael’s gaze drifts over to the wall above the kitchen, where stockings hang all in a row, each one labeled with a glittery name written in Rosa’s neat script. Third from the left is Alex’s. Michael’s hangs right next to it.

“We can sit out here for a bit,” Alex says, nudging Michael with his knee. “But then we should get back in there, before somebody starts to worry.” 

“Eh, they’re havin’ fun.” Michael waves a hand at the scene behind them dismissively, but Alex reaches out and snags it in midair, bringing their clasped hands to rest on their knees. 

“Sure. ‘Til they notice you’re sitting out here in the cold.” He flips their hands so Michael’s is on the bottom, and starts to stroke his fingertips up and down Michael’s palm, a whisper-light touch. “Just because I was the first to come after you doesn’t mean I’d be the only one.”

“Right,” Michael says, trying and mostly failing to keep the skepticism out of his voice. 

“Face it, Guerin. You’re loved. You’re just going to have to get used to it.”

Michael lets his head fall forward until his chin hits his chest, then sits up straighter and shifts to meet Alex’s gaze. “Might take awhile.”

“I’ve got awhile.” He threads his fingers through Michael’s and squeezes his hand. After a long moment, Michael squeezes back. 

“Hey, Mikey, Alex!” They turn to see Liz poking her head out the Crashdown door, an incredulous look on her face. “It’s freezing out here! Come inside!” 

“Yeah, come save me from your sister, Guerin,” Valenti calls out from his spot in the restaurant, still unable to see. “Max won’t do anything about her!”

“Hey, we’re not her keepers,” Max says. “She’s her own woman.”

“Damn right I am,” Isobel replies, and Michael could swear he hears Valenti whimper. 

“Well,” Alex asks soft enough so only Michael can hear, squeezing his hand again. “You ready to head back to the party?” 

Michael takes another look behind him at the warmth emanating from the restaurant. He nods. “Yeah,” he says, getting to his feet without letting go of Alex, then taking care to help him up. “I’m ready.” 


	4. malex + string lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day six of the Roswell Prompts Advent on tumblr-- prompt: "string lights."
> 
> Takes place in the nebulous well-adjusted future.

“Don’t you think this might be a _ little _ bit overkill?” Alex leaned against the doorjamb between the cabin’s kitchen and living room, taking a sip of the hot cocoa Michael had insisted they drink while decorating the tree. Alex had to admit, the extra mini-marshmallows he’d picked up at the store had been a nice touch.

“You’ve seen where I live. No such thing as too much junk,” Michael said without sparing Alex a glance. He narrowed his eyes at the tree, and the string of multi-colored lights wound itself further around the back of it. 

As Michael concentrated, Alex took stock of the room. He’d barely been in the kitchen for ten minutes, but now it was somehow strewn with even more stuff. Unopened packages of ornaments lined the table. Strands of garland were thrown over the back of the couch. An oversized wreath had been tossed onto the seat of the armchair, and— was that a nutcracker? 

Alex furrowed his brow. “Did you leave anything at the store for the rest of Roswell, or are they going to think some kind of alien Grinch stole Christmas?” 

Michael tossed a mild glare over his shoulder, then went back to wrapping the tree in lights with his mind. “Trust me, no one in this town is going without their fair share of kitschy decor. Besides, Carla down at the store gave me a deal.”

“Friend of yours?” 

“Old booty call.” 

It was funny, Alex mused, how an idle comment like that might have upset him before. Made him jealous, or sent him on a spiral of self-loathing about all the time they’d wasted. Now, it only made him chuckle. Sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder at how far they’d come, like when he’d nudge Michael out of the way with his hip so he could brush his teeth at the bathroom sink in the morning, or the times that he’d come inside to find him curled up on the couch with Buffy, a book in his lap and his hand buried in her soft fur. 

“I need a break,” Michael said with a sigh, and Alex blinked away his thoughts. He picked up the second mug of hot cocoa and set it on the coffee table, perched precariously on a box of shiny red ornaments. “Sorry, I’ll make some room.” Michael grabbed two handfuls of garland and moved it onto the floor so there was space for both of them to sit on the sofa. They settled in, thighs pressed up close against each other, and slowly sipped their drinks. 

“I didn’t realize you were so into Christmas,” Alex said after a moment, putting his mug down when he found a spot for it amid the chaos. Once his hands were free, he slid one onto Michael’s knee and began idly picking at a fray in his jeans. 

“‘m not, really.” 

Alex made a big show of looking around the room, then at Michael, and Michael huffed out a soft laugh.

“Okay, you got me. I guess I’m getting pretty into it this year.” 

Alex wasn’t stupid. He knew holidays couldn’t have been easy for Michael growing up, and it wasn’t like they would have had gotten easier once he got older. He just hadn’t expected the degree to which Michael would latch onto the holiday.

“Never had much of anything to celebrate,” he went on. He reached down and covered Alex’s hand on his knee, the pads of his fingertips lightly stroking his knuckles. “But now… things have been good… really, really good. Makes me kinda want to, for once. Guess I went a little overboard, though.”

“Nah.” Alex turned his head and leaned down just enough to press a kiss to Michael’s flannel-clad shoulder. “I think this is just right.”

They sat and watched the tree, all lit up in twinkly reds and greens and blues and yellows. The silence that settled around them felt to Alex like a warm, familiar blanket, until Michael floated a silver ornament out of its box.

“Watch this,” he said, and sent it gliding gracefully through the air to hang on one of the highest boughs. 

“Gotta say, decorating is certainly more interesting with you around.” 

“Just wait’ll we get to the tree-topper.” 

Alex raised his eyebrows, then followed Michael’s gaze to a box on the floor underneath the armchair— a smiling green alien in a Santa hat, piloting a UFO with a yellow beam of light emitting from the underside that served as the piece that sat on top of the tree. He laughed easily, then shifted on the couch cushions so he could rest his head on Michael’s shoulder.

“It’s perfect.” 

“Yeah,” Michael said, dropping a kiss to the top of Alex’s head with a sigh that ruffled his hair. “This really kinda is.”


	5. malex + first date, state fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [InsidiousIntent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsidiousIntent/pseuds/InsidiousIntent), who requested a first date in the nebulous, well-adjusted future, and [Bellakitse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellakitse/pseuds/Bellakitse), who requested "state fair."

“Is _that_ why you brought me here?” Alex had one eyebrow quirked high in a question, but he was smiling. “To seduce me with all the various foods shaped like—mmph.”

Michael cut him off with the corn dog, which Alex gamely bit into and chewed, still grinning.

“Are you seriously accusing me of bringing you to the fried food capital of New Mexico in the service of getting laid?” Michael finished off the corn dog, wiping his fingers on his jeans and tossing the stick into the first trash can they strolled past. “Like I have to do much seducing, anyway,” he added, sliding his gaze over to peek at Alex out of the corner of his eye.

“You might have your work cut out for you tonight, if we keep eating.” Alex shrugged, idly rubbing his stomach. They walked through the fair in comfortable silence for a few moments, shoulders just brushing, and Michael wondered if it was possible for his heart to burst out of his chest from happiness. “Ooh, let’s go in there,” Alex said suddenly, pointing to the funhouse ahead.

“See? You’re just trying to get me alone in a dark corner so you can have your wicked—” Alex cut him off with a kiss, fast and sweet, then grasped him by the hand and led him into the funhouse.

It was about what Michael expected, a labyrinth of trick mirrors in shapes that made it appear even more labyrinthine than it was. Despite understanding the physics of it all, he couldn’t help but succumb to the wonder of it.

“You know, I’ve never been to the fair before.”

“Yeah, you mentioned,” Alex said, not unkindly, still clutching his hand. “Having fun so far?”

“I mean, I’ve never been to anything like this.” Michael tugged him to a stop once they were in a corner, surrounded by wavy mirrors in all different sizes. “Not the state fair, not a carnival in a mall parking lot, nothing.” 

Alex’s brow furrowed. He had a look on his face that Michael had finally managed to identify as empathy, not pity. “I guess that makes sense. I don’t suppose you would’ve gone with any of your foster families.”

Michael looked down. The floor was a carnival of its own, all shiny red and white swirls. “Nah. Not worth the ten dollars. Or the effort.”

Alex hesitated, then let go of Michael’s hand to slide both arms over his shoulders. Michael’s hands instinctively went to Alex’s hips, and he allowed himself to shift closer, close enough to take comfort in the warmth of his body, its solidness steadfast beneath his palms. Breathing deep, Alex let his forehead rest against Michael’s.

“You’re always worth the effort,” he said after a beat, his voice low. “Sometimes you’re a real pain in the ass,” he added, and Michael barked a laugh, slipping one hand around and up underneath the hem of Alex’s flannel to stroke at the skin of his lower back. “But you’re _always_ worth the effort.”

Unable to keep still at that, Michael tipped his face up to capture Alex’s lips, kissing him deeply and pulling him in even closer, his palm sliding up his spine under his shirt. When they separated, he let out a shaky breath, taking a step backward without letting Alex go. How could he, ever?

“You too, you know.”

Alex grinned, a glint in his eye that Michael didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing. “I’m a pain in the ass, too?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know it.”

His expression softening, Alex leaned in and pressed a kiss to Michael’s lips, gentle, delicate. The sound of raucous giggles from a passing group of kids broke them apart, and Michael took a step backward, far enough that he could see their reflection in the mirror behind Alex. He chuckled. “Speaking of asses…”

Frowning, Alex swiveled his head to look behind him. Michael let out another laugh at the sight, at the way the funhouse mirrors distorted Alex’s lower half to be three times its size, at the way it did the same to him. He gently maneuvered them so they were facing the mirrors, standing side by side.

“Will you still love me when I look like this?” he asked, nearly bubbling over with mirth.

“Yes,” Alex breathed. He always did take everything so seriously, thought Michael. But maybe this _was_ serious. He nodded solemnly, like he was making a promise. Like he was making a vow.

“I’ll love you too. Always.”


	6. malex + "Remember, we have to get up early tomorrow"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for flash fic night at the Junkyard! Takes place, as ever, in the nebulous well-adjusted future.

“Mmph,” Alex groaned, the sound muffled by the pillow under his cheek. He felt boneless and satisfied in a way that had become blissfully common of late. “Remember, we have to get up early tomorrow.” 

Michael flopped back down on his side of the bed (because they were now people who had _ sides of the bed_, a fact that Alex marveled at nightly), the springs creaking in protest. “You get up early every day.” He pushed the covers down to his waist and slid closer to Alex, tangling their legs together beneath the sheets. 

“We have Isobel’s thing.” 

“You really want to go to that?” He huffed out a breath, snuggling in closer so his nose skimmed Alex’s bare shoulder. “Out of _ all _ the things we could be doing,” he pressed a kiss to the skin there, “on a cold and rainy Saturday,” another kiss, this one on Alex’s neck, “you want to spend it at some stuffy old brunch?” He pressed a final kiss just underneath Alex’s jaw, then fell back onto his side. The smug look on his face told Alex he thought he’d won. 

“She’s _ your _ sister.” 

“She’s _ your _ inexplicable BFF.” 

It was true; Alex had promised Isobel over a wheel of Brie and a bottle of Malbec at their weekly wine night that they’d be there on Saturday. Like she’d have taken no for an answer, anyway. 

He rolled onto his side to face Michael, settling a hand on his hip. His thumb stroked across his hipbone once, twice, as he watched Michael try to pretend it wasn’t distracting. “Tell you what,” he said, enjoying the way Michael’s eyes darkened, the way he licked his bottom lip as Alex’s hand began to drift. “We get up early.” His fingertips trailed across Michael’s stomach. “Go to Isobel’s.” Lower still. “Have a mini-quiche and a coffee, and then head back here to spend the whole rest of the day in bed.” His hand reached its destination (Michael’s otherworldly refractory period was yet another thing Alex would never fail to marvel at).

“Okay, fine, yeah,” Michael said. “But Sunday, I wouldn’t set an alarm if I were you.” 

Alex smirked at the tone of his voice, almost as breathy as it was cocksure, and kept working up a steady, staccato rhythm. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“‘Cause tomorrow, I intend to wear you out,” he said, surging forward to capture Alex’s mouth in a surprise kiss, pinning his arm between them. Alex laughed into the kiss, only pulling back when he needed to breathe.

“Alright, on Sunday, we sleep in.” 

“Mm, might want to call in sick on Monday, too,” Michael added, his eyes sliding shut. 

Alex chuckled. “Oh yeah?” He twisted his wrist just a bit, and Michael hissed. 

“Actually, maybe we oughta just take a whole week off. A— ahh— a little staycation kinda thing.” 

A smile crept onto Alex’s face, and he rolled them until he was hovering over Michael, looking down fondly at his hooded eyes and lazy grin. “Anytime.”

They were 15 minutes late to Isobel’s brunch the next day, and she glared them into staying an hour later than they’d intended. But Alex didn’t mind. After all, they had the whole day ahead of them.

And then some.


	7. alex & isobel + getting rid of noah's stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little flash fic for a Saturday evening! Takes place a couple weeks after the s1 finale. Alex & Isobel, rated gen. Prompt from @insidious-intent!

Of all the people Alex had expected to find on his porch, Isobel Evans was not one of them. But there she was, wearing the drabbest outfit he’d ever seen her in, hair tied back in a low ponytail. Her makeup was sparse, and she frowned at him.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?”

Furrowing his brow, he stepped back and waved her inside. “Just wasn’t expecting to see you here. I didn’t know you knew where I lived.” 

“I didn’t,” she said, surveying the living room as he shut the door behind them. “But Kyle does, and I have Kyle’s number.”

He watched her look around for a long moment, feeling off-kilter. He was glad he’d already put his leg on and gotten ready for the day. “Um. Can I get you coffee? Or something?” 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the rustic woodsman type,” she answered, gesturing at the decor and ignoring his offer. 

“This was Jim Valenti’s old hunting cabin. I just haven’t gotten around to redecorating. I guess I’m not sure what type I am.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, then nodded succinctly. “Maybe that can be our deal. I help you make this place look habitable in exchange for your help with what I need. ” 

He cocked his head to the side. “Kinda hard to agree to your terms when you haven’t told me why you’re here.” 

Her face tightened almost imperceptibly, and she sniffed, then stepped around him to open the door.

“I didn’t mean you had to _leave_.”

“I’m not leaving.” She pointed to her Lexus. “See for yourself.” 

Alex stepped out onto the porch to get a better look. The sedan was stuffed to the gills, the backseat and passenger seat piled high with boxes and full garbage bags and loose items of clothing and what appeared to be a racquetball racquet. The trunk was overflowing, too, held in place by a bungee cord hanging on for dear life. He raised his eyebrows at her. “If you’re looking for a place to host a yard sale, I gotta say, I don’t think we’ll get much foot traffic out here.”

“It’s Noah’s shit.” 

He’d heard what happened, heard about Noah and… everything that happened the night he died. He’d wondered how Isobel was taking it all, but in spite of being tangled up in a lot of the same bullshit over the past several months, they’d barely spoken. They weren’t friends; they hardly knew each other. He’d wondered, but it hadn’t seemed like his place to reach out, so he hadn’t.

“And I want it gone,” she continued. 

“Okay… did you want to leave it here? I have some storage out back—” She shot him a withering look, like he was an idiot, and maybe he was. “Ah. You want help destroying it.” 

Isobel nodded. “I knew you had some land, and figured that meant no nosy neighbors for when we set it on fire.”

“We live in New Mexico. There are a lot of places with no one for miles.” 

She tilted her chin up as if in a challenge. “I also figured you might understand what it’s like to need to let go of something and not quite know how to do it.” 

Oh. Alex cleared his throat, looking down at the porch. There was a loose board by the railing he’d have to fix at some point. Someone could stumble. 

“So. Is it a deal, Manes?”

He looked up at her, and recognized something in her eyes, some steely resolve that had weakened but still managed to burn bright. He let out a long breath. “You drive it out into that field. Make sure to find a spot without much brush. I’ll get the matches.” He turned to head back inside, trying to remember if he had matches in his junk drawer, or maybe they were in the cabinet by the fireplace. As she opened the car door, he turned back. “Oh, and Isobel?”

“Yeah?” 

“I’m not setting foot in a Pottery Barn.” 

Her smile was slight, but it was there. “Duly noted. I’m thinking we keep it simple, clean lines, maybe a few mid-century modern accents.” 

“Whatever you say, Isobel.” He chuckled and walked back inside. It was time to light a fire. 


	8. malex + “you know when your phone buzzes, it means i’m trying to talk to you, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a couple weeks after the s1 finale. Originally posted on Tumblr awhile before s2 premiered, so obviously does not necessarily follow current canon, but kind of fits early on if you squint!

Alex huffed in frustration as he pulled into the drive that led to the junkyard. He’d been wrong, again— Michael’s truck was still there. The Airstream was still there. He was, probably, still there. But Alex knew he would worry if he didn’t see him for himself, so…

He pulled up near the Airstream and debated getting out of the car. In the end, it wasn’t his decision to make.

“You here to lecture me?” Michael asked, stumbling down the steps of the trailer. He had an open beer in one hand, in spite of the fact that it was— Alex looked at the clock on his dash— 10:43 in the morning.

Alex turned off the engine, sucked in a calming breath, stepped out of the vehicle. He was in control of his own body, if nothing else, he reminded himself. 

“You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?” 

Michael frowned, digging in his pocket for his phone. He made a big show of noticing the missed calls and messages— many, many messages— and Alex rolled his eyes. Finally, Michael swiped to clear them all, shoving the phone back deep down in his pocket.

“You know when someone ignores your calls, it means they don’t want to talk to you, right?” He was shirtless, which Alex tried to ignore as he approached his SUV. He walked until they were face to face, mere inches away from each other. “Take a hint, Manes.” 

Alex should have got back in the car, sped off, not looked back. Instead, he shut the door and stood up straighter. “I guess I don’t particularly care what you want at the moment.” He stepped around Michael and circled his SUV, opening the passenger side door to pull out an overflowing cardboard box.

“Never did before,” Michael said belatedly, watching him walk the box up toward the Airstream. His hands full, Alex shot a look at Michael over his shoulder. 

“Give me a hand here?” 

Still frowning in confusion, Michael narrowed his eyes at the door, and it opened for Alex. He went inside and set it down on the counter, taking stock of the situation for the first time. It had always been a cluttered mess, but now things were worse than usual. Trash was strewn everywhere, the bed unmade, half-empty beer bottles on every available surface. 

“Why are you here, Alex?” Michael asked, climbing into the trailer behind him. 

Alex began to unpack the box, tucking away cans of food and jugs of water and bottles of acetone in their respective cabinets. “This is what happens when nobody can get ahold of you.” 

Michael crossed his arms over his chest. “What, they send in the Salvation Army?”

“Believe it or not, some of us have a vested interest in you not dying.” 

“Us?”

Alex frowned, gripping the can of black beans in his hand a little bit tighter. “Isobel. Liz. Kyle. Maria,” he said, his voice breaking on the last name. “Me.” He set the can down in the cabinet with a little bit more force than was necessary. 

“Well,” Michael started, after a moment. “Here I am. Alive and well.”

After shutting the cabinet door, Alex turned around, quirking an eyebrow. “This is alive and well?” 

Michael glared, but Alex didn’t have time to argue. He’d driven over from work, and he needed to get back before anyone noticed he was gone. 

“Look, just…” He sighed. “This should be enough to get you through the week, at least. If you need anything in the meantime…”

Their eyes met, and Alex felt something break inside him at Michael’s vacant gaze. Suddenly, all he wanted was to be back at work, behind his desk, where the worst things he had to deal with were massive government conspiracies. He picked up the empty box and made for the door. Michael shuffled out of his path, but just barely, not enough so they could pass by each other without brushing skin against skin. The Airstream was small, after all. 

“Going so soon?” Michael asked as Alex moved past him. He was close enough to smell the sour scent of his breath, and he forced himself to stop comparing it to the sense-memory of Michael that clung to the back of his mind. He kept his head down, pushing his way out the door. The crisp New Mexico air greeted him like a startling hello. 

“Call me if you need anything else,” he said over his shoulder, not quite able to meet Michael’s eye. He got in the car and waited, hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel. Michael stood still, framed by door of the Airstream, and he took a long drag of his beer. 

Alex could still see him in his rearview mirror, standing with a beer in his hand, watching him, as he pulled out of the junkyard, onto the road, and drove away.


	9. malex + "A pillow fort?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo, nebulous well-adjusted future!

“A pillow fort? Really?” Alex raised one eyebrow as he entered their living room from the kitchen, where he’d been putting away the dinner leftovers. ****

Michael smirked up at him from the floor. He was surrounded by pillows— the couch cushions had all been donated to the cause, and he appeared to be in the process of floating the pillows off their bed into his waiting hands. “You gonna toss me a couple blankets or are you just gonna stand there looking all disapproving?” 

“I’m not sure I’ve made a _pillow fort _in… well, ever,” Alex noted, as he pulled open the cabinet doors beneath the bookshelf and tugged out a pair of cozy throw blankets. He passed them to Michael, who offered him a soft smile in return, a smile that always struck Alex right between the ribs because he had gone so long without seeing it and now he got to see it every day.

“Exactly.” Michael propped up one of the couch cushions lengthwise and fastened the edge of one of the blankets to the top with a clothespin he produced from his back pocket. He tucked another between his teeth as he worked. “And it wasn’t exactly something we did on rainy Sundays at any of my foster homes, either, believe it or not.” 

Alex frowned, perching on the edge of the now-cushionless couch, and watched as Michael stacked pillows on pillows, and something started to take shape around them.

“So I thought,” Michael continued, squinting as he floated the other blanket over the whole structure, a circus tent roof for his makeshift construction. The fabric settled on top of Alex’s head, and when Michael looked up at him, he let out a laugh that was equal parts fond and amused. “Get down here.” Alex did, scooting carefully off the couch edge and onto the carpet beside him, their knees knocking together like magnets. “So I thought maybe it was something we should experience for ourselves.”

Alex blinked at him in the shadows, the pinpricks of light coming through the loose weave of the blanket the only thing illuminating Michael’s face. He could still see the hope in his eyes, the open vulnerability that was becoming more comfortable than chaotic. 

Michael shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, I don’t know… you penciled in my height on the doorjamb in the kitchen the other day, and I just thought—”

Alex surged forward and captured his lips in a kiss, one hand coming up to brush back his curls, the other braced against the floor. When he slowly pulled back a moment later, Michael’s eyes stayed shut for a beat longer. 

“It’s perfect,” Alex said. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well good.” Michael smiled to himself, then scooted down to lay back on the carpet, gaze fixed on the blanket suspended above. Adjusting his leg, Alex did the same. 

“So…” Alex began after a moment, drumming his fingers against his chest. “What does one _do_ in a pillow fort?”

Michael let his head fall to the side so he could look at Alex, his face breaking out in a slowburn of a grin that sent a shiver up Alex’s spine. “Oh,” he said. “I can think of a few ideas.” 


	10. malex + that's so stupid. please do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for sabrinachill on tumblr, who requested Malex + “That’s so stupid. Please, do it again.” <3

“What are you reading?” 

Michael looked up with a start, tucking the magazine partway underneath the sleeping bag scrunched up next to him in the bed of his truck. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he watched Alex swing his guitar case up and over the side, then climb in after it. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Alex smirked, dropping down beside him and leaning closer to capture Michael’s lips in a kiss. Michael hummed into it just like he knew Alex liked, letting his tongue swipe into his mouth to distract him as he shoved the magazine further under the cheap nylon fabric. Despite his best efforts, Alex just chuckled, reaching over his lap and snatching the magazine before Michael had even opened his eyes. 

“Hey, it’s not mine, okay?” Michael said, holding both hands in the air with an innocent shrug.

The things Alex could do with one eyebrow never failed to impress Michael. “You mean you don’t have a subscription to _Cosmo_ of your very own?” 

“It’s Isobel’s,” Michael answered, shifting so he could sag back against the side of the truck and throw his legs over Alex’s lap. One of Alex’s hands immediately began massaging idly at his calf, his thumb stroking back and forth over thrift store denim. It made something in Michael shiver. “Swiped it from her bag after school. She threatened me ‘til I promised I’d give it back.” 

With his free hand, Alex flipped through the brightly-colored pages. “Trying to learn whether you’re a winter or a summer?” He turned the page and laughed, his eyes crinkling prettily at the corners in a way that stole Michael’s breath. “Or the latest mascara trends hot off the runway?” He thumbed through a few more pages. “Or the 69 freshest new ways to please your man?” 

Michael froze momentarily, but really, there was no sense in pretending. He tilted his head back against the cool metal, eyeing Alex through his lashes in a way he hoped was more seductive than silly. “Depends. One of those options sound better to you? Because I know one of ‘em sounds better to me.” 

Alex swallowed, then met his eyes and let out a soft breath. One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Care to share with the class what you’ve learned, Guerin?” 

Michael sat up straighter, scooting closer even as it meant he had to pull his legs out of Alex’s lap and tuck them underneath him. He leaned in close and nuzzled his nose at the edge of Alex’s jaw. Alex, very helpfully, cocked his head to the side to give him plenty of room to work with. 

“Maybe not the _whole_ class,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Alex’s neck. “But I could be down for a one-on-one study session.” 

“So, ah…” Alex swallowed again as Michael nipped at the soft skin beneath his ear. “What was one of the freshest tips you learned?” 

“Well,” Michael started, pulling back just enough to peek into the messenger bag Alex had brought into the truck bed with him. He reached inside and pulled out Alex’s water bottle, opening it with one hand as the other cupped the back of Alex’s head. “According to _Cosmo_, I should take a sip of ice cold water…” He took a long gulp and swallowed it down, his eyes hooded as he watched Alex’s gaze track the movement. “And then…” He tugged gently on the hair at the back of Alex’s head, positioning him right where he wanted him. “Blow.” Michael blew a soft, presumably chilly breath right into Alex’s ear. 

After a beat, Alex burst out laughing, which was not exactly the desired effect. 

Michael pulled back a few inches, pouting, and when Alex caught his eye, he laughed again. “I’m sorry, Guerin, it’s just… that’s so stupid.” 

“Me trying to make you feel good is stupid?” 

“No! No. It’s just…” Alex slipped a hand around Michael’s waist to pull him in closer. “It’s cold air, in my ear. It tickles, that’s all.” He leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth, which made his scowl soften, just a little. “It wasn’t _bad_, just… surprising.” Another kiss. “Please do it again.” 

Michael watched him warily, but when Alex looked at him like that, there was simply no way for him to resist. He huffed a sigh, then took another sip of water, blowing another cool stream of air into Alex’s ear. 

For a second, Alex was still. Then he squirmed, letting out a chuckle. 

“Alex!” 

“I’m sorry! It just tickles!” 

“I’m telling Isobel her magazine’s bullshit.” 

Alex grinned fondly at him, then scooted even closer, nudging Michael’s shoulder with his nose. “You know, just because _one_ of the tips didn’t work… I mean, there _are_ 68 more things we could try.” 

Michael raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. And I don’t have to be home ‘til 11.” 

“Mmm, plenty of time to try one or two.” 

Alex made it home by curfew by the skin of his teeth. The next morning at school, Michael considered sneaking the magazine back into Isobel’s bag, but at the last moment, tucked it into the glove box of his truck instead.

After all, the whole summer stretched ahead of them. There was so much time, and so many new things to try.


	11. malex + two seats were vacant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [saadiestuff](https://saadiestuff.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, who prompted Malex + "two seats were vacant."

“Watch out for the guy in 3C,” Cheryl said in a low, surreptitious voice as she restocked the plastic cups on the beverage cart. Philip raised an eyebrow.

“Handsy?” he asked.

“Worse.” She tapped her finger against the side of her nose, the symbol they’d developed to warn each other about their more flatulent frequent flyers, and Philip barked out his distinctive laugh. 

“It’s always the ones in first class, isn’t it?” He nodded for her to grasp the other end of the cart, and together they pushed it out of the flight attendant nook near the front of the plane and down the aisle through economy. It was always more efficient to start at the back and work their way forward.

Cheryl plastered on her most pleasant smile once they reached the last row. “Beverage? Cookie? Pretzels?” The best part of the beverage service was how mindless it was._ Smile, pour, hand it over, repeat. _Sure, she heard the _pfft_ of Coke cans opening in her sleep, but she liked her job. It was a small price to pay.

Once they reached row 32, she noticed two seats were vacant, the two closest to the window, and she idly hoped they wouldn’t be insistently pressing their call button for a Diet Sprite 20 minutes later when they came out of the bathrooms.

Philip’s laugh pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to meet his eyes. “Incoming,” he whispered with a smirk, and she frowned. He just reached up and tugged ostentatiously on one earlobe.

_Oh. _

Cheryl finished pouring the tomato juice for 29B and handed it over before nonchalantly glancing over her shoulder. Back by the lavatory stood a man clutching a black cowboy hat in one hand, his other smoothing over his mop of messy curls. A moment later, the door opened with a telltale _snick_ and another man stepped out. This one’s hair was equally mussed, his gaze darting furtively around the cabin. Curls stood up a little straighter, saying something to the dark-haired man that Cheryl couldn’t hear. 

Shifting in the aisle so she could get a better look, she watched Dark Hair’s brows knit together as he insistently whispered something back. A slow grin grew on Curls’ face, and _damn_, Cheryl thought. How could anyone resist the full force of that smile? 

Dark Hair certainly didn’t seem to be able to. His brow softened, and she could see the muscles in his jaw twitch as he tried to keep a straight face. Then Curls reached out with one hand, letting the pad of his thumb trace featherlight down the other man’s cheekbone, along his jaw, down to his lips to swipe softly across them before dropping back down to his side. Dark Hair looked like he might melt into a puddle in the middle of the aisle.

Cheryl felt like she might, too.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Ma’am.” She snapped out of it, idly realizing 27C had asked her for an orange juice at least three times.

“Of course,” she said, practiced and professional. “Just a moment.” 

She twisted open the juice bottle and poured, chancing one more glance over her shoulder. Curls and Dark Hair had made their way back to their seats, settling in next to each other. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Curls push the armrest between them all the way up, watched Dark Hair lean in for a kiss, soft and sweet and slow. Like they couldn’t get enough of each other. Like they had something special. Something deep inside her yearned for what they so obviously had.

“_Ma’am_? My orange juice?” 

Turning back, she smiled down at 27C. “I’m so sorry. Would you like a cookie?” He nodded, and she handed him a two-pack along with his cup of juice. 

“Cher-Bear? You good?” 

She looked up at Philip, her fake smile shifting into a real one, and she nodded. Then, with another quick glimpse over her shoulder: “I think I’m just going to bring some extra cookies to row 32. They look like they might need them.”


	12. malex + michael only lets alex touch his hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an anon on Tumblr, who prompted "Michael only lets Alex touch his hair."

Isobel chewed a French fry and watched Max and Michael on the other side of the booth. They were both slumped in their seats, matching frowns on their faces. She sighed, then gave them each a light kick underneath the table with the toe of her stylish suede boots.

“Seriously? I’m going to need the two of you to buck up,” she said. “Your misery is really killing the ambiance.”

Michael made a big show of looking around the diner. “Iz, hate to break it to you, but I don’t think the tourists flock to the Crashdown for the _ambiance_.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Arturo and I are trying something new on social, and _this_—” She gestured at the two of them. “Doesn’t go with the vibe. And he’s gotten way more involved in marketing since Liz left, so—”

Max interrupted her with a despondent groan, and she wondered if she needed to start carrying a pack of tissues around, or maybe a hanky with his initials embroidered on it. She was about to suggest the latter when the bell above the door dinged.

“Alex,” Michael said, sitting up straighter across from her. “Hey.”

Isobel swiveled in her seat to see Alex, looking as good as ever in a leather jacket and henley and approaching them from the entryway. 

“Hey,” he said, mostly to Michael.

“Want to sit?” she asked, nodding at the booth beside her. 

He shook his head apologetically. “I can’t. I’m just picking up a to-go order and meeting Kyle at the hospital.” 

“Just Kyle, huh?” Michael asked. “Sounds like a blast.” His voice held twin tones of relief and mockery, though it had no bite to it, and Alex shook his head with a laugh, then frowned.

“What’s— you’ve got—” He reached over and plucked a bit of fuzz out of the back of Michael’s curls, holding it up for them to see before rubbing his fingers together to disperse it into the air. “Lint, or something, I don’t know.” Alex’s voice was soft, and he reached up again to gently smooth out the curls at the back of Michael’s head. Michael leaned into the touch. “Been doing a lot of laundry lately?” 

Michael laughed drily, a half-smile on his face. “One day, I’m gonna remember that dryer sheet.”

Alex chuckled. “Someday.”

“Alex? Your order’s ready.” 

With a quick nod and a wave goodbye, Alex snagged his bag of to-go food from Arturo and disappeared out the door, leaving Isobel to stare open-mouthed at Michael in his wake.

“What? What’d I do to deserve _that_ look?” 

She scoffed. “You _hate_ it when I touch your hair.” 

Michael folded his arms in front of him. “That’s not true,” he said, which was rich, because he _definitely_ did. 

“Oh please! The last time I tried to put curl cream in it to make it look less tragic, you TK’d it across the room!”

Max glanced up from where he sat, propping one cheek on his fist on the table. “She’s right, you know. I ruffled your hair once and you scowled for a week.” 

Michael was scowling now, Isobel noted. She plucked another fry off their shared plate and dipped it in ketchup. “Guess Alex Manes is just _different_, hmm?” 

She half-expected Michael to argue with her, but he didn’t. He just stared longingly at the door to the Crashdown as if Alex might appear there again. “Yeah. Guess he is.” 

Isobel heaved an exaggerated sigh, then pulled the plate of fries closer to her. If she was going to have to help _both_ of her brothers pull their heads out of their asses and fix their relationships, then she was going to need all the carbs she could get.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to hang out on tumblr? I'm [unbreakablejemmasimmons](http://unbreakablejemmasimmons.tumblr.com) over there!


End file.
